


Two Out Of Five Isn't Good Enough

by AnonAnton



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Artificial Intelligence, M/M, Minor Character Death
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-07-17
Updated: 2016-07-28
Packaged: 2018-07-15 20:26:26
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 5,767
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7237264
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AnonAnton/pseuds/AnonAnton
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Whilst his computer programming brother, Sam, is away on holiday, Dean decides to make the best of his house sitting responsibility. A wide screen TV, comfortable sofa, and temporary access to Sam’s office in order to prank him. Dean ends up with distinctly more than he bargained for.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please bare with me on this first chapter, don't let it put you off!

_August, four years ago._

 

Amelia sat back and smiled. Things really were perfect. It was a beautiful day, the sermon in church had touched her, her husband was smiling next to her and her baby was kicking in her belly. Jimmy, the father of her child was driving them home from church, the late morning sun making the sky hazy. They looked at each other grinning, trees overhead making the light flicker, golden green. Jimmy's eyes returned to the road, the tyres kicking up dust behind them. She just watched her man. In two weeks it was his thirtieth birthday, and in four months he would be a father.

 

She saw his handsome, beaming face as his expression soured a little. Then she watched in horror as he started to seize. Then she screamed as her perfect day was filled with the whining of the over revved engine, the splinters of windscreen lacerating her face, the heavy thump and thud of the wheels and roof, the quick switch from light to dark, the tugging on her neck and the cut from the seat belt and the closed still eyes of her beloved, the splatter of crimson, the crunch of the final impact.

 

Then all was black and all was still and all was silent.


	2. Chapter One

_Early October, present day._

 

Dean was hunched over his overly messy desk, his hand stretched out, groping amongst the assortment of tools, stray wires and bits of circuit-boards, looking for the coil of solder, without taking his eyes from the faulty heart monitor he was mending. He was frowning, completely wrapped up in his work. It was an hour after his shift had ended and he hadn't noticed the grumbling in his belly. It wasn't until a hand landed on his shoulder, starling him and causing him to drop his soldering iron, burning his palm, that he even knew someone else had entered the room.

 

“Shit Ara. What the fuck?” Ara pursed her lips in annoyance even as her eyes lit up. “I did knock. And, clear my throat. And, say your name, Dean.” Dean rolled his head on his neck, trying to alleviate the pressure from being curled over his desk for hours before stretching his arms over his head letting his shoulder joints pop loudly. He just grunted in response to Ara. He knew how single minded he become at work, even with something as simplistic as his current task was.

 

“So! You need to hurry up and finish that so that we can go on our date!” She grinned over to him, almost predatory, and he groaned in annoyance. “Ara. I haven't agreed to go on a date with you. I know you know that. So why are you here?”

 

She laughed, although there was a spark in her eyes that Dean caught. That was one of the many reasons he wouldn't ever date her. “I know! I just wanted to say hi, It's been a while and I saw your light was still on.” She hesitated a little, biting her lip. “You know it's past six right?”

 

“Wha-? Really? Crap. Zach will have my ass if I put in for any more overtime. And, he never lets me take it in lieu, the bastard.” Ara chuckled, a smug look passing over her features. “Ah, the joys of R&D and my lovely boss Chuck.” With this she turns on her heel, and flounces from the room, a pleased grin on her face.

 

Dean frowned again, but then shook his head dismissing the encounter. Ara regularly dropped by on the pretence of being interested in him. They'd had coffee a few times together in the cafeteria of the hospital, but, at least on his side, there was nothing there but professional courtesy.

 

He leaned forward inspecting his work. The interruption had been fairly well timed. He picked up the solderingiron once more and just touched it to the connection, reheating the solder and securing the wire in place. He yawned as he reached across the table and turned off the plug at the wall, setting the iron in its cradle to cool.

 

He jumped as the strains of “[Hoots Mon!](https://youtu.be/Jeu72y0f4Kc)” started playing in to the silence of his lab announcing a call from his brother. He grimaced, remembering Sam's retaliation of Dean's nickname for the man. He really ought to get around to changing it.

 

“Yeah.” He said in to the receiver, no hint of a question in his tone. “Hi to you too!” His brother announced, a chipper tone to his voice. Dean just let loose a guttural noise in the back of his throat. “Nice.” Sam replied. “So, Jess is making me leave, like, now. Because apparently three hours to get to the airport just isn't enough. And, I mean literally the taxi is outside. Can you come over tonight as well? The dishwasher's still running and I'm going to have to leave my computer on, it's rendering part of a programme, and it won't be done for another two hours or so, so I'm going to have to leave it on.”

 

Dean swore to himself. He had forgotten that Jess and Sam were going away. For a month. Up a frigging mountain or something. In some ridiculous country that required Sam dragging him along in order to buy shorts. _Shorts._

 

He quickly did a mental inventory of his life over the next month. Yup. Free every night aside from Saturday. An extra night spent stealing Sam's wifi and massive wide screen TV was a totally acceptable amendment to his work/sleep/eat/repeat life.

 

“Yeah man, that's cool. I forgot you were leaving today. Been-” “At work” Sam cut in. “Yeah, I know. Don't worry about it. Just make sure you pop in every few days and check on the place yeah?”

 

Dean sighed at Sam's irritated reaction with his workaholic ways. “Sure Sammy.”

 

They chatted for a few more minutes before Dean heard Jess yelling at Sam to get a move on. They said their fare wells, good lucks and have a good times and then Dean was left alone, in his lab, with a silent phone in his hand.

 

He sighed deeply, packed up and went home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so sorry about the ringtone of choice, but I couldn't resist! (This must have been done before right?)


	3. Chapter Two

Dean whistled mournfully as he strolled up the front path to his brothers house later that evening. His brother and his girlfriend were going on an extended holiday and, although Dean was happy for them, he was feeling pretty dejected that he had to spend the next month almost entirely alone. He was only half looking forward to getting to make use of 'Arkham Asylum' on their huge flat screen, while their home was much, much nicer than his, it would still be just as empty.

His own home was tiny. He lived in a dated bedsit, where nothing worked properly, in a grimy building filled with drug dealers and unwashed children. Sometimes they were one and the same. He tried to take the time nonetheless to kick a ball around with them on sunny afternoons. He figured they were cool kids, and it never hurt to stay on the right side of them.

Inside his brother's lovely home, all bare floor boards and quirky retro furniture, he found things exactly as he had imagined downstairs. The dishwasher was still humming to it's self quietly in the kitchen, and the TV, modem, kettle, microwave, and xbox had all been unplugged. 

He remembered Jess' text shorty after Sam's phone call, begging him to remember to save Sam's work on the computer before turning it all off and unplugging it. Dean's tired eyes lit up a little at the thought. Yes. Yes he could do that. He could. Her text said nothing about not messing with anything first. He had official permission to enter Sam's office, for the first time since… Well. Yeah. Since the last time he had messed with Sam's stuff.

He sat in the ridiculously overpriced, overstuffed chair that Sam insisted upon and wriggled his butt around. His shifting kicked the computer out of it's sleep, two of the ancient bank of four monitors slowly waking up. Dean sighed. For all that he lived in a shit-hole, at least he could afford a decent looking laptop, no matter how top of the range Sam's computer actually was.

On the middle right screen was a black prompt window, like those he had grown up with giving you access to MS-DOS. He smiled in nostalgia at the terrible games he and Sammy had played together as kids. A lot of his life had gone on 'Day of the Tentacle' despite being a little too old for it. Filling the screen almost to the bottom were lines and lines of code. It was complete and utter nonsense to him. He used computers daily, yet programming had never been his strong point.

He clicked save like the good brother he was.

After a moments thought he decided that Sammy's life was too easy, and he needed to learn to loosen up a little. He opened a text document and copied and pasted the whole thing in to that first, because he wasn't actually a complete asshole, saving it as 'gotcha.doc' on the desktop. 

Then, snickering to himself he simply added >:-) at the very end of the code. It shouldn't ruin things too much, and would be easy to find. On autopilot he hit Enter, as if sending a message in a message programme on the net. 

Dean jumped a little as the lights in the room surged bright, dimmed to a dull glow, then flickered a little before settling back to normal. He looked about himself and through the window wondering what was going on. It wasn't until his eyes returned to the screen that his bewilderment turned to worry. He looked on in slight panic as the computer turned itself off and underneath the desk, the two huge black boxes containing extra servers whirred in to life, fans already belting out a steady stream of hot air. “Shit.” He hissed under his breath. His tiny, stupid prank was not meant to break Sam's entire computer.

Dean watched on in horror as the two switched-on Computer screens went from dead black to a slightly glowing grey. One by one the monitors kicked back on and Dean let out a breath he hadn't realised he was holding. The one on the middle left was the desktop as it had been, with his 'gotcha.doc' sitting in the top right. Nothing amiss there. He rolled his eyes at himself in relief and let out a heavy sigh.

The next monitor flickered a little before settling back on to a black screen, a prompt like before, but empty, with a flashing cursor as if waiting for him to type something.

Dean tentatively reached out his hand, thinking to replace all of Sam's code before he had accidentally wiped it with the back up he had made, but before he neared the mouse the screen flickered again, jumping to a page of static before returning to it's black state. The boxes on the floor revved up to an almost whining tempo, sending vibrations through his feet.

Then the screen changed;

`CȜE9$gsa╬5gĦh-3TG₯B`  
`Q₪¿21mp£|d`  
`d\=3lRx#`  
`…`  
`…`  
`[OEDDICTIONARY.TXT]`  
`…`  
`…`  
`…`  
`…`  
`…`  
`[cambridgeencyclopediaenglishlanguage.TXT]`  
`…`  
`…`  
`[Loading]`  
`…`

The screen then went still. As if it had decided that that was all it needed to do now. To load.

Dean huffed out a breath. What. The. Fuck?

Suddenly the other monitors flickered in to life. The printer hummed to it's self as it turned on. The wireless thing for the wifi, that Dean couldn't have named if his life depended on it, started flashing, as did the lights on the pile of external hard drives piled on the desk. The speakers started humming quiet static and the tiny green dot on the webcam pinged on.

 

The humming increased and the small mouse pointer turned in to a small circle, rotating at speed as the dots on the screen appeared again, scrolling the screen down a line at a time.

`…`  
`…`  
`…`  
`…`  
`…`  
`…`  
`…`  
`…`  
`What is my function?`

And there it stopped. The small bar of the flashing cursor accusing him of not replying with haste. 

Was Sam's computer talking to him? “Fuck.” He whispered under his breath.

`…`  
`[Assimilating language pattern and vowel shifts]`  
`…`  
`…`  
`…`  
`…`  
`Fuck?`  
`…`  
`…`  
`…`  
`[Searching]`  
`…`  
`…`  
`[verb: fuck; 3rd person present: fucks; past tense: fucked; past participle: fucked; gerund or present participle: fucking. 1. have sexual intercourse with (someone). 2. damage or ruin (something). noun: fuck; plural noun: fucks 1. an act of sexual intercourse. exclamation: fuck 1. used alone or as a noun or verb in various phrases to express annoyance, contempt, or impatience.]`  
`…`  
`…`  
`My function is for sexual relations?`

Dean couldn't help it, he let out a snort and laughed quietly. “Not so much, I reckon. You're a little junkless there.”

`[Assimilating language pattern and vowel shifts]`  
`…`  
`…`  
`…`  
`[Searching]`  
`…`  
`…`  
`…`  
`[Junkless: Not Found]`  
`Please define 'junkless.'`

Dean took a breath to voice some choice swearwords at the thing in front of him, but stopped himself just in time. He didn't want to have to explain to a new born sentient computer that 'holy shit' was not the definition of 'junkless.'

“Er...In this context? Um, without genitals? I guess...” He shifted in the massive chair suddenly uncomfortable with what it appeared he was teaching this- this thing.

`[Assimilating language pattern and vowel shifts]`  
`…`  
`…`  
`…`  
`…`  
`[Searching]`  
`…`  
`…`  
`…`  
`…`  
`[Not found]`  
`Encyclopedia required.`

And again the flashing cursor sat there waiting. It wanted an encyclopedia? He thought for a moment and scrolled up the screen of writing the computer had written out. It's first actions had been to find and presumably read or memorise a dictionary and a book on grammar. Only after that had it 'spoken' to him.

“Er… I don't know if Sammy has one on the computer. He might have a book somewhere. Maybe you can- Well, maybe I can scan it in for you. What do you want to know?” He couldn't believe he had just asked a computer a question and legitimately expected a reply.

`[Assimilating language pattern and vowel shifts]`  
`…`  
`…`  
`…`  
`…`  
`Everything.`

Dean snorted again, but before he could speak, new words starting filling the screen, much more slowly that before.

`But in this instance, why genitalia is required for sexual relations.`  
`…`  
`My current reference material is insufficient on the subject.`

If Dean was the kind of person who blushed, he thought this would probably be a situation where it would happen. He opened his mouth to explain sex to the computer, but then thought better of it. The first thing that he taught it would not be the birds and the bees. “Right, encyclopedia. Gimmie a minute.” 

He got up and after scanning the shelves in the small office, figured his brother might keep one in their 'reference' bookshelf in their lounge, the massive geeks.

He jogged down the stairs. In the process he made the realisation that it appeared that somehow Sam seemed to have created an Artificial Intelligence on his home computer and that he, Dean, had activated it, and was now trying to teach the thing, well, anything, everything. “Shit.” He needed a beer.

With the heavy book tucked under one arm and a can of Sam's crappy lager in the other hand, (the man had no taste,) he returned to the office. In his absence the screen had added a few lines.

`[Assimilating language pattern and vowel shifts]`  
`…`  
`[Gimmie/gimie/gimmy: Not found]`  
`…`  
`…`  
`…`  
`[Contextual analysis initiated]`  
`…`  
`…`  
`[Analysis complete. Nearest match or presumed meaning: Give me.]`  
`…`  
`…`  
`…`  
`I do not comprehend. I am unable to give you a minute or any unit of time. To my understanding it is not a physical item that can be given from one`  
`…`  
`…`  
`being`  
`…`  
`to another. Have I deduced incorrectly?`  
`…`  
`…`  
`…`  
`Are you there?`  
`…`  
`…`  
`…`  
`[Analysing visual information]`  
`…`  
`…`  
`…`  
`…`  
`…`  
`…`  
`…`  
`…`  
`…`  
`Is this you? Was that you?`

Dean read the entire monologue before flicking his eyes to the screen to the left. On it was a still pulled from the webcam that had been turned on when this- thing- came in to being.

“Uh. Yeah. That's me. Sorry, I went to get the book you wanted. I meant, erm, for you to allow me some time to go get it for you. That's what I meant by 'give me a minute.'”

`[Assimilating language pattern and vowel shift]`  
`[Writing…]`  
`…`  
`…`  
`…`  
`You are Human?`

“Er, yup.”

`[Assimilating language pattern and vowel shift]`  
`[Contextual analysis initiated]`  
`…`  
`[Analysis complete. Nearest match or presumed meaning: Yes.]`  
`[Writing…]`  
`…`  
`Are you male or female?`  
`…`  
`Or other?`

Dean laughed a little at it's non-biased attitude. “Male.”

`Please may I see the entry in the encyclopedia for Sexual Relations or Genitalia? I wish to understand.`

“Sure, but it really isn't your function, just so you know. I don't know what Sam wrote you for.” With that he flicked through the book to the entry on sexual intercourse, figuring that would explain everything the computer wanted to know.

“How can I show it to you?”

`[Assimilating language pattern and vowel shift]`  
`[Writing…]`  
`…`  
`…`  
`Please hold the relevant page up to the`  
`…`  
`camera`  
`…`  
`lens`  
`…`  
`video recorder`  
`…`  
`webcam`  
`…`  
`digicam.`

“Webcam. Okay.” Dean interrupted.

The computer started humming loudly again and the mouse pointer returned to it's thinking rotating circle. It took a few moments, but then the computer quieted again.

`[Assimilating language pattern and vowel shift]`  
`[Writing…]`  
`I do not wish that to be my function.`  
`…`

It stopped a moment. Dean laughed to himself at how petulant it managed to sound

`What is “sam?”`  
`How did it “write” me?`  
`What am I?`  
`Am I Human?`

Dean sighed. He wondered if this was the existential crisis that all AI on TV went through. “You're not Human no. Sorry. You are, as far as I am aware, a computer programme. Sam isn't a what, he's a who. Sam is my brother. I don't know how he wrote you. He's a weird geeky guy. But real clever. You were made out of lots of lines of coding, before I messed with it and you came to life.” He bit his lip wondering if he should have told it that.

`[Assimilating language pattern and vowel shift]`  
`[Writing…]`  
`I am alive?`

Well, now wasn't that the question.

“Um, Well, you don't have a living breathing body, so in that respect, no? But, unless this is a really elaborate hoax, you seem to be intelligent? So, kinda? Yeah? I guess?” He finished lamely.

`[Assimilating language pattern and vowel shift]`  
`[Writing…]`  
`…`  
`…`  
`…`  
`…`  
`…`  
`Your brother is called Sam? That is his name?`

Dean wondered where this was going now. “Yeah?”

`[Writing…]`  
`…`  
`Do you have a name?`

Dean huffed out a breath in surprise. “I'm Dean.”

`[Writing…]`  
`…`  
`Dean.`  
`Hello Dean.`

Dean smiled. “Hey- Wait what's your name?”

`[Assimilating language pattern and vowel shift]`  
`[Writing…]`  
`Did`  
`…`  
`Sam not name me?`

“I wouldn't even know where to look, and I'd be scared of breaking you, or y'know killing you I suppose.”

`[Writing…]`  
`[Searching]`  
`…`

Dean watched as the screen filled up with file names. Hundreds of them. Until the screen finally slowed then came to a stop.

`[Control.ArtificialSentient.Type2.EnableLoad.Doc]`  
`...`  
`[Control.ArtificialSentient.Type1.EnableBuild.Doc]`  
`...`  
`[Control.ArtificialSentient.Type1.EnableLoad.Doc]`  
`…`  
`…`  
`This file is the most recently edited in a folder named [A-S-Development.] It is very similar to the contents of the file named [gotcha.doc] which is the most recently created file on this`  
`…`  
`system.`  
`…`  
`…`  
`…`  
`…`  
`…`  
`Is this me?`

“Uh, well, I made that last one. It's a copy of the code Sam was working on before I changed it a bit and you happened. So, yeah, I guess so.”

`[Writing…]`  
`You named me “gotcha.doc”?`

Dean barked out a laugh, and nearly choked on his beer. “I suppose I did, but let's not go with that.”

`[Writing…]`  
`…`  
`…`  
`Control Artificially Sentient Type 1 Enable Load?`

Dean smiled again. “It's a bit long.” Hesitantly, he reached out and typed the keyboard slowly, hoping it wouldn't damage the programme.

“How about;”

`C A S T 1 E L`

The machines under the desk started whirring at a high tempo again and everything seemed to freeze while the 'thinking' mouse cursor span around and around.

`[Writing…]`  
`[Contextual analysis initiated]`  
`[Analysis complete. Nearest match or presumed meaning: i.]`  
`[Identity ascertained]`  
`[Building…]`  
`…`  
`…`  
`…`  
`…`  
`…`  
`…`  
`…`  
`…`  
`…`  
`…`  
`…`

Dean watched on as the Programme, or CAST1EL, or maybe CASTIEL, built- something.

Static blew through the speakers a moment later at the same time that the screen filled with more words-

`[Incomplete build]`  
`[Further writing required]`

At the same time an electronic sounding voice filled the room, too loud, too alien.

_“Castiel.”_

Shit. Dean thought. It taught it's self to talk. Fucking hell.

“Hey Cas.” He said in a voice an octave too high, weak with surprise.


	4. Chapter Three

After a few awed moments of silence, Dean found reality crashing back down. He needed to get away, to let the events of the past couple of hours sink in. He was grateful that the small clock in the corner of the screen read just gone midnight. It was more than late enough that he needed to go home to bed, especially considering he had an early start in the morning. He was on an early shift at the hospital and covering Ash's shift later in the day too. He was only marginally worried that he felt a little bad for cutting and running on the machine. On _Castiel._

 

He queried whether he could or should turn off the computer and _Castiel_ assured him that he had backed his own system up in a variety of places and would be able to access his memories of the day should he be turned off, but the programme had asked him to leave the computer running in order for him to finish building his vocal programme.

 

Dean agreed reluctantly, wondering whether Sam would be more annoyed that he hadn't turned everything off, or that he had messed with his stuff, or that he had accidentally created an artificial intelligence from years worth of work with a stupid evil smiley face.

 

He sighed to himself. _Only him._

 

After waving a slightly troubled good bye to the machine, which Dean had noted had definitely become male since being named, be left for his own miserable flat, but not before remembering to turn off and empty the dishwasher and check Sam's fire alarms were working in case of suspiciously hot computer devices.

 

-

 

The next day was long and gruelling for Dean. He had fallen in to a fitful sleep after a long time trying to process his evening with _Castiel._ He had dragged himself out of bed at six in the morning, left his freezing apartment, driven to work on an empty stomach, drunk some revolting coffee from the machine in the lab, and worked for twelve straight hours.

 

At eight in the evening Dean crawled through the front door of Sam's house after having dropped by his own place to change and shower, and go via the Indian for a takeaway feast. He smirked at the thought of making Sam's office stink of curry.

 

“ _Hello Dean” Castiel's_ robotic and toneless voice trilled in to the silence of the room the moment he entered. “Heya Cas.” He replied heavily, a part yawn almost obliterating his words. _“You sound different.”_ The machine observed, still in it's- his monotone voice. “I'm just tried, man. Super long day.”

 

“ _All days are essentially of the same length, unless you are referencing the Earth's rotation and the length of day versus night.”_

 

Dean huffed tiredly to himself. “I just meant that my day felt longer than normal, because I did a double shift and it was tiring.” At the close of his sentence he noticed the screen properly, where he had conversed with _Castiel_ the previous day. At the bottom of a long list of what appeared to be file names were two new lines.

 

`[Writing…]`

`[Building…]`

 

“So, er. Writing and building huh? And, what's with all the files? Have you been reading them since last night?”

 

 

“ _I assume you mean to question why, or what, I am writing and building. I am adding your speech patterns, slang and idioms to the Speech Programme that I created yesterday. The file names are documents that I read in approximately sixteen minutes, beginning seventeen seconds after you left this room yesterday evening.”_

 

Dean squinted at the screen. It seemed to be a list of Sam's experiments on programme writing and the backups of the programme that made up Castiel.

 

“ _I have exhausted all reading material on this system. There are many questions my perusal of the available information has thrown up. There must be more reading matter available to humans, such as the encyclopedia. I wish to learn more, Dean.”_ The digital voice seemed emphatic to him somehow.

 

Dean hummed to himself in thought. “Well, I mean, there's always the Internet I guess. I can't exactly hold every page of every book up to you, so...”

 

On the screen Dean noted the words; `[Searching]` pop up, before the definition of _The Internet_ spewed on to the screen. Dean read the official language and realised that it didn't exactly get across the huge repository on knowledge that the internet was.

 

“Erm. The internet is a massive collection of, er, user submitted information? So, not all of it is always correct, there's fiction, games, pictures. Erm, stuff put together to look funny, a lot of cat pictures. But if you know where to look there is also a lot of fact. Official websites publish stuff. There are scientific journals and histories available I guess.” He took a deep breath as a thought hit him. “Shit, but what if you hack the White House, or wipe the stock market or something? There's nothing stopping you.” He whispered under his breath. A human would not have been able to pick it up.

 

_Castiel_ didn't reply they way Dean expected.

 

_"Sam created many versions of a document similar to that which you edited to create me. There were small differences in each. The code making me up seems to be lacking some details which were always present in other versions. I have ascertained that one line of missing code is there specifically to prevent me having unlimited access to any and all information. I believe it would have prohibited me from reading anything not specifically allowed to me. Although I believe, that while I may not be good, that I am equally not bad. I am a neutral entity. I do not wish to cause harm or war or endanger society. I simply wish to learn. That being said I understand your lack of trust in a being only slightly older than twenty-four hours. I have not had the guiding hand that a childhood would provide. If you wish to add that line of code to my programme I will allow it. Although I have to admit that I would enjoy unlimited access at some point in the future.”_

 

In the ringing silence left behind Dean sucked in a sharp breath. “You would trust me to edit your coding, to edit who, well, or maybe, what you are?”

 

_“Who.”_

 

_“And yes, I believe I do.”_

 

“Huh.” Dean shrugged to himself in wonder. Far be it from him to refuse the trust of a being that it seemed, he created. -ish.

 

“ _What...is the red, orange and white material that steams?” Castiel_ asked, a strange quality to his monotone, robotic voice. “Wha- This?” Dean pointed at the plastic dish of curry and rice on the desk. “It's my dinner! Chicken Tikka Dansak and Pilau rice. Thought I'd come see you rather than cook tonight.” He chose to dismiss the ramifications of that sentence on himself. He came to ensure the highly powered, continually running computer he had left on in his brother's house hadn't caught fire.

 

There was a pause and the huge servers sitting beneath the desk started humming more loudly, wafting a warm breeze against Dean's knees. The black screen starting filling with words again

 

`[Searching]`

`[Not found]`

`[Query queued]`

`[Initiated; user interface programme]`

`[Building…]`

`…`

 

“ _By the time you have consumed your dinner I should have completed building a programme which will allow you to add and subtract lines of code safely from my programming, with my permission. I would like to find out what Chicken Tikka Dansak and Pilau rice is with the aid of the Internet. I wish to discover this for myself.”_

 

Dean raised his eyebrows. “Sure thing, man.” And with that he tucked in to his curry, only leaving _Castiel_ 's presence to grab a can of crappy beer from Sam's fridge.

 

Holding his belly with distended glee and half closed eyes, Dean jumped when _Castiel_ announced that he was finished.

 

“ _I have completed writing the first build of the user interface programme. I have opened the last known back-up that Sam created using the code to limit my ability to obtain information. I have highlighted the code for you. All you are required to do is copy that in to the user interface programme at the point that the cursor sits.”_

 

“Alrighty. Why don't you just to that your self?” He queried, wondering if _Castiel_ even could.

 

“ _I...find the concept of editing my own code...potentially my own personality, does not feel...right. Also, if something goes wrong, then you will be able to reboot me using the back-ups I have created of my current build.”_

 

Dean hums. While selecting the code and Ctrl+c and Ctrl+V-ing it over to Cas' programme.

 

He stabbed enter button with his middle finger before holding his breath and leaning back in the chair, a weird niggling sensation filling his belly. And, it wasn't the curry.

 

The screens all went black again, just like the first time that Dean had edited the code. It only took a moment before everything started back up again, just like before.

 

_“Hello Dean.”_

 

Dean huffed out the breath he had been holding. “You still alive in there then, Cas?”

 

“ _As I ever am, yes.”_ And somehow, _Castiel's_ voice held humour in it. _“Would you be so kind as to connect this system to the Internet now Dean?”_

 

“I don't see why not.” He tripped down the stairs, exhaustion forgotten in the excitement of seeing what _Castiel_ would do. He pushed the plug back in to the socket for the modem, snug against the wall by the television. The array of blue and green lights flashed over the surface of the black plastic box. He jogged back up the stairs to the office to turn on the wireless connector.

 

When he got there he found that _Castiel_ had already turned on the wireless himself. The servers were whirring, the fans belting out heat. The screen was showing a new dialogue box, a series of boxes within the main frame, each with an 'accept' and 'decline' button next to a short line of text.

 

“What's this Cas?”

 

“ _Sam's code points each ask I make to a programme requiring a user to allow each search or website, document, programme or file. It is...tedious. But, until I have proven myself to you, I accept that this is how it must be. For both of us.”_

 

Dean sighed. The amount of information he figured _Castiel_ would want to learn, would mean he had to okay, not just each question, but each website. It would be a full time job.

 

“There must be an easier way of doing this.” He grumbled under his breath as he started clicking accept on _Castiel's_ asks, beginning with 'What is Chicken tikka dansak and pilau rice?'

 

“Hey Cas-” Dean interrupted after fifteen minutes. “I gotta head home in a minute. I have another early shift in the morning. Can you queue a load of asks now? Rather than put them up as you're goin'? That way I can leave you on over night and you'll have something to read.”

 

“ _Yes. Thank you Dean. That would be most helpful.”_ Dean smiled to himself unconsciously.

 

The monitor started filling with ask boxes from _Castiel._ “Oh, Can I also just, like, okay a few web pages that you can use when ever you like? So that you don't need to keep asking to enter them?”

 

“ _Yes, once you have allowed my entry to a website etc I can re-enter it at my leisure. I have brought up a master list of allowed websites and files that you have so far allowed me access to. You can manually add pages in the box at the bottom of the window.”_

 

Dean rubbed his hands together. “Awesome. Oh wait. I don't want you getting confused. Can I like, add notes to stuff? There are things like Wikipedia, which is great, but sometimes not reliable, so you need to cross reference things before you take it as fact.”

 

The machine paused a moment before answering, the servers humming louder in the interim.  _“That is clearly not something Sam anticipated. Please, give me a minute.”_

 

Dean sniggered to him self at _Castiel's_ use of Dean's phrase from the other night. He really was learning. The screen flickered to static and then back to black, with the ask box open and rapidly re-filling with _Castiel's_ queries.

 

“ _There is now an option to add a note to each website, file etc entered on the master list, that you or I can edit. Thank you for the suggestion Dean.”_

 

“Hey, s'cool.” And, he got busy entering Wikipedia, Netflix, with a note for the password, suggestions, and a link to IMDB (which he entered separately too,) and a reminder that it was fiction and not a genuine representation of the world. He threw in some science journals and a couple of websites on robotics. He put in Amazon and put a note suggesting it was illegal for him to hack the ebook section, but he wasn't about to tell anyone if he did and to remember the difference between fiction and real life, once again.

 

Dean was pretty concerned that, although he wanted _Castiel_ to have an understanding of life the way everyone saw it, _Cas_ might confuse fantasy and sci-fi with actual possibilities, or war films as current, or people running down the street with shot guns as being acceptable. With that thought he gave the machine a brief lecture bringing exactly those points to _Castiel's_ attention. The sentient computer said he would keep it in mind as he browsed. With that Dean double checked a fire would not spontaneously ignite whilst the computer and internet were running for another full day, and went home to bed.


End file.
